


Pestilence

by milkbreadette



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Enemies to Lovers, Kozume Kenma is a Little Shit, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Mess, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Plague, Plague Doctor - Freeform, embodiment of illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkbreadette/pseuds/milkbreadette
Summary: In which Kuroo Tetsurou is a renowned plague doctor, and Kenma Kozume is the spiritual embodiment of pestilence.No matter how hard he tries, Kuroo just can't stop Kenma haunting him and his dreams.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Pestilence

I can see him outside the window. He smiles. I’ve become familiar with his face, or even his eyes and then his face; sharp and warm, swirling and reminiscent of the darkest ale known to man, intoxicatingly so. His teeth are crooked and his canines curl upwards - he looks like a young predator, and I suppose that’s exactly what he is. His skin clear and alike to gold, obscured by his hair when it whips into his face (black and blonde like it was dipped in caramel, and wet from the rain, it reaches to the end of his jaw). He stands there in his glory, dressed like a nobleman, baring his eyes into my very soul, and smiling. I hate it. I hate it when he looks at me. I hate him.

He doesn’t seem to care. Afterall, he can’t hear me, or my thoughts for that matter.

I force myself to look away from him and back to my work. There are people here who need me, and he is not one of them. There is a woman in front of me, dying, her children surrounding her seeking comfort. I don’t know how to tell her that I cannot help her current state of illness, as I simply do not have enough research. I try to calm her instead  
inbetween her coughs.

“Please, Ms, try your best to get everything off your chest. I know it hurts to cough like the way you are now, but the more fluid you are able to get out, the better you will feel.” I assure her.

She doesn’t look very assured. Instead, she rolls her eyes and continues hacking away like I hadn't said anything. I pretend that it didn't bruise my ego a little bit and turn back to my bag. There has to be something. At least _one_ thing. It's just sickness - there always has to be a cure. No matter how much I rustle around in my bag and pull out different medicines and elixirs, I can't find anything that would possibly help. I sigh, grab a cold bottle full of a thick, dark brown liquid, and place it on the table next to her.

"Take this twice a day - once in the morning and once in the evening. Keep it away from children, it could make them feel ill if they ingest it too much." I advise her, opening the lid and urging her to take a drink.

She scoffs and puts it back down. I bite back the urge to call her a bitch. The look is definitely painted on my face, as she returns it.

Sighing, I start packing away. I take back my mask from a coat hook and button up my bag. My mask is looking less and less professional each day, battered and worn around the edges; the glass eyeholes are even starting to crack and the stained red colour is starting to fade. It stings a little. I’ve always been top of my caliber, top of every single class and every medical rating, and here I am, called to measly cases with people who don’t even want my help. It’s horrifically insulting, yet I cannot do anything about it except deal with the problem and move on.

Sighing, I take one last look outside. He’s still there, still smiling, still burning his eyes into my soul. He tilts his head at the lady inside and then gestures with a black, gloved hand towards her. He smiles, showing his teeth, and then turns and leaves. It’s odd. It’s especially odd when that’s when the woman I tended to coughs more intensely. I think nothing of it - I’ve done as much as I can - and put on my mask to take my exit.

By the time I get outside, the rain has gotten heavier and he is no longer by the window when I check. He's never there when I go outside to confront him. What even was he? A stalker? It sure felt like it. I feel a strange sense of familiarity when I look at him, but I don't enjoy feeling that way. He makes me feel small, or even insanely weak and powerless like I'm a doll on display. One day I'd like to grab him by the shirt and ask him to leave me alone, push him away,

but today is not that day. He is no longer here, and has run off into the road to go ruin someone else's day.

I make my way home. It's not far, and I suppose that's half the reason I went to see the case I did today. The plague is ever-changing and evolving, and half of my work is trying to understand its patterns and symptoms and report back to the association of doctors. There's nothing to report today, except the fact that women aren't fond of me and I've definitely got a stalker.

The warmth of my home greets me as soon as I swing open the door. It's always been warm; full of orange light and home-knitted blankets and cluttered surfaces. It definitely looks like someone lives here, that's all I can say. I go to light my candles and oil lamps and take a seat at my desk, messy as always. I've done all of my reports, filled in every sheet of symptoms and studies of patients, yet I've essentially done nothing to help the state of my town. Not many people are ill, lucky for me and the rest of the doctors, but the people who are aren't in good condition, and I've taken it upon myself to try and solve it.

I'm about to start a new report, but I suddenly feel cold. My house is never cold, and I shudder in discomfort while I try and find the source of the chill. I must've kept a window open. I turn on my heel to go to my nearest window to check

It's open.

There's someone opening it from the outside.

My blood runs cold, my body won't move, and I simply can't process what I see fast enough to act.

Black, gloved hands reach into my house, reaching like branches off some sort of morbid tree. They pry at my windowsill, push at the window to move it further upwards and create a larger opening, and start to creep inside. Someone crawls into my house, gently, as to not disturb the furniture, and promptly turns back around to close and lock the window after them. I'm struck with horror when I recognise them.

Eyes, gold and sharp stare back at me.

"Good evening, Dr. Tetsurou. I believe we have an overdue conversation scheduled around about... now. Care to take a seat?" He asks, brushing off his clothes, dark and flowy.

And he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> wowee this sucks yikes please tell me your feedback in the comments so I know where else to go;;


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